


Mirror, Mirror

by cakeisnotpie



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Dimension Travel, Dom/sub, Evil Steve Rogers, Implied Sexual and Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, M/M, background tony stark/steve rogers - Freeform, the Avengers are EVIL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5562910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since when did Steve Rogers gun down innocent prisoners and make threats? And Phil carry a gun around a tower? </p><p>Clint slides through the looking glass into a world where the Avengers are evil; along the way home, he might just learn a few truths about himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror, Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot has been languishing in my WIP folder for a long time. Finally decided to dust it off and finish it up. Hope you enjoy the patchwork plot that developed. 
> 
> For clarity, I've sectioned off Clint's POV (in the alternative universe) and Phil's POV (in the MCU universe). Only the last two sections take place all together. Hope that helps the story flow. 
> 
> Named after one of my favorite original Star Trek episodes. Long live Mr. Spock with a goatee!

Bright white spots marred Clint’s vision as his ears rang with the aftereffects of the explosion. A bullet whizzed by, close enough to make him jerk out of the way just by sound alone. Dropping, he rolled along the concrete floor, holding his bow tight to his body, ending up behind a pallet of boxes as the fight continued to rage around him. He closed his eyes and spots went black, burned onto the underside of his eyelid. Damn machine had gone off right in front of him; he did a quick count of fingers since he’d been reaching towards it when the light switched to red. Ten, all intact.

“Hawkeye!” The sound was tinny, but Clint could hear the Coulson’s voice coming across the link in his ear. “Report!”

“Alive and kicking,” he replied. Even as he spoke, his sight was fading back in. He could make out shapes, the bulk of the Big Guy and the flying circle of Cap’s shield.  “Give me five and I’ll be right as rain.”

“I’ve got seven targets closing in on my location,” Natasha said. “Get off your ass and take a couple out, Barton.”

Clint snorted a laugh. That was so Nat; expecting the miraculous from him.  “But it’s such a nice ass,” he quipped as he focused, distinguishing Natasha’s red hair and the dark uniforms of her assailants. He sighted and winged three arrows one after the other, taking down a man per arrow. “He shoots, he scores!”

“They’re trying to take the scientists out the side door,” Thor shouted, his voice cutting above all the others. “I cannot get free to stop them.”

“I’ve got it.” Clint notched an arrow, aimed and hit the metal push bar that opened the door. The foam sealant jammed the mechanism; no amount of pushing by the men in the dark tac suits could get the door open.

“Let’s bring this to an end,” Cap said. “Take ‘em out.”

The fight was brutal but the Avengers overpowered their opponents before Clint’s head had completely cleared. The ringing was still there, distant but constant, and spots occasionally danced across his line of sight.

“You best not be lying about your condition,” Natasha said to him as the cleanup began.  

“Getting better by the second. Just rang my bell, that’s all.” Clint bent to pull an arrow out of a body; it turned as he yanked, falling over on its back. Emblazoned on the chest of the black suit was the SHIELD emblem. Clint froze.

“Please,” one of the captured men begged. “We don’t know anything; we’re just grunts sent to protect these guys.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Steve said, pulling a gun from his holster. Since when did Steve carry a gun? “That makes you useless then.”

The sharp retort made Clint jump and the firm hand on his shoulder held him down for the second and the third shot. “You’re getting a complete checkup, hearing and sight,” Coulson said in his brook no argument voice. “Your eyesight is too important to take any chances.”

No one seemed bothered that Steve Rogers had just killed some SHIELD agents in cold blood. In fact, now that Clint looked, he noticed that Natasha’s uniform was leather … she hated leather, said it didn’t breathe … trimmed in red with an hourglass where here SHIELD badge usually was. Cap was in dark navy, an array of weapons slung on his gun belt. Phil was in all black, expensive tailored suit, handmade shirt, silk tie, gun tucked back into a custom leather shoulder holster. Glancing down, he noted his own suit was subtly changed; unremitting black but for a few lines the color of dried blood and no SHIELD badge.

“Barton?” Phil’s hand tightened, fingers digging into the leather all but the thumb which grazed over his neck. A tiny shiver ran down his spine and Clint had a sudden premonition that, whatever was going on, he needed to keep his mouth shut until he figured it out. Maybe it was the stare Steve turned his way, steely and intimidating, on top of the fact Phil could knock him out with just a quick press of his thumb.

“Sorry, Coulson.” Clint looked the other man in the eyes, hiding everything. He argued because he always argued; to agree easily would be suspicious. “I’m fine really; good as new. Don’t need some doctor shining lights in my eyes to tell me I got my brains scrambled for a second.”

Steve and Phil exchanged a look, Steve giving a brief nod before Phil spoke. “That’s an order, Barton. Medical.”

He huffed and rolled his eyes for good measure before he gave in. “Okay. But nobody better eat my leftover Chinese in the fridge before I get back.”

That earned him a tight smile from Phil. “Don’t dawdle like a child and maybe I’ll let you share my pad thai.”

“Yes, sir.” Clint meant the statement to be jovial, but Phil’s smile settled into a real one when he heard it.

“Good boy,” Phil said with a nod before leaving to help with the cleanup. Clint started to wander over to examine the control panel he’d been near when the flash came, but Steve stepped between him and his target, blue eyes cold and piercing.

“And what did you think you were doing? You were ordered to provide cover, and I don’t remember telling you to check the equipment,” he asked, voice pitched low so the uniformed men who were rounding up the dead wouldn’t hear them.

This wasn’t the Steve Clint knew; this man was hard and menacing. The threat was clear as Steve used his height to loom over Clint; he would be answered to his satisfaction or … well, Clint had always known that Steve could take anyone of them down.

“I noticed a countdown, little LED readout. Everyone else was busy, so I moved to determine if it was a threat. Too many self-destruct sequences in the past to ignore the possibility.” Best to go with the truth; easier to remember than a lie. “Just as I reached it, a red switch began to pulse and then there was a flash of light and big noise. You know the rest.”

Long seconds dragged by as Steve stared at him, but Clint held his ground, not flinching under the withering regard. Finally, Steve touched his comm and activated his mic. “Tony, I need data about that flash and explosion. Clint says there was a timer; he was the closest when it went off.”

“Send him to my lab and I’ll run a full spectrum on him. I’ll get JARVIS on the computer files right away,” Tony’s voice agreed.

“Good,” Steve replied. “And Tony? We talked about taking unnecessary risks. You were to stay out of the range of the EMP.”

“They had an RPG trained on the Hulk. You know how pissed off that makes him,” Tony protested.

“Doesn’t matter. You know what happens when you don’t follow orders.” Steve looked back at Clint, the warning as much for him as for Tony. “We’ll discuss this after debrief.” As Tony took a loud breath to argue, Steve talked over him. “And if you say another word, I’ll double it, Tony. Just say yes sir.”

“Yes, sir,” Tony answered then clicked off.

“Coulson gives you too much leeway,” Steve said to Clint. “Don’t make the mistake in believing that I’ll do the same.”

As he walked away, Clint heaved a sigh and wondered what the hell was going on. Or maybe the question was where the hell was he?

* * *

 

“You okay?” Phil stepped up behind Clint, fully aware that Clint would probably lie about his physical state like always. Still, watching as Clint was thrown across the room by the blast had made Phil’s heart leap into his throat. Being an Avenger now just meant that Clint was even more vulnerable as he tried to keep up with super soldiers and alien gods. Every injury, Phil worried this would be the last one, the one that took Clint out of the game for good.

A streak of carbon ash marred Clint’s cheek as he turned; his eyes were wide and slightly glazed, probably from the concussive force or the smoke. With a tilt of his head, Clint squinted Phil’s way. “What? Yeah, fine. I’m fine. Ears are ringing a bit, sir, but that’s fading.  Good bit of smoke in my eyes; some of those saline drops should do the trick.”

Sir? Been a long time since Clint had called him that, but then he always like to poke at people. Lately, Tony had been giving Phil grief about his concern for the team, some more than others. He needed to tone down his feelings before Clint caught on. The honorific was probably Clint’s way of joining in the teasing. “That’s an order, Barton. Medical,” he said.

Clint dropped his eyes and nodded. “Yes, sir,” he replied.

“Clint, are you okay?” Steve stepped up; he’d taken his helmet off and looked worried. “What were you doing over there? I thought you were covering us; why did you leave your perch?”

His back stiffened and Clint flashed a quick look to Phil before he answered. “I noticed a countdown, little LED readout. Everyone else was busy, so I moved to determine if it was a threat. Just as I reached it, a red switch began to pulse and then there was a flash of light and big noise. I was concerned about the team’s safety.”

There was something off about the way Clint spoke, his normal joking tone replaced by a monotone recitation of facts. Phil exchanged a glance with Steve over Clint’s shoulder; he noticed it too.

“Tony, I need data about that flash and explosion. Clint says there was a timer; he was the closest when it went off,” Steve spoke into his comm unit.

“Send him to my lab and I’ll run a full spectrum on him. I’ll get JARVIS on the computer files right away,” Tony’s voice agreed.

“Good,” Steve replied. “And Tony? We talked about taking unnecessary risks. Why didn’t you stay out of the range of the EMP?”

“They had an RPG trained on the Hulk. You know how pissed off that makes him,” Tony replied in his usual snarky tone. “Didn’t want to have to watch Dora all evening to calm him down.”

“We’ll discuss this after debrief,” Steve said, rolling his eyes at Phil and Clint.  As Tony took a loud breath to argue, Steve talked over him. “And if you say another word, I’ll let the Hulk pick the movies for the next three weeks.”

“Fine, but you have to deal with the grumbling next time he gets hit,” Tony shot back.

As usual, Phil was behind everyone else returning to the Tower; so much paperwork to get started before he could fall into bed for  a few hours and get up early to do it all again. He was getting too damn old for this, long hours with little rest and short periods of fast violence. Maybe he really should seriously contemplate that job offer Stark always joked about, the one Pepper actually drew up a contract for. By the time he got off the elevator in the kitchen, his feet were aching and he really just wanted to fill his empty stomach and get some sleep. But most of the team were gathered, returned from their debrief. Clint, he noticed, was leaning against the corner of the kitchen counter, a pair of chopsticks in one hand and a take-out container in the other.

“Did you leave me anything?” Phil asked no one in particular. He rummaged in the fridge, looking for something to heat up, sniffing some chow mein before dumping it in the garbage disposal.

“Here,” Clint offered his half-eaten carton. “Have this.”

“Hey, that’s where my pad thai went!” Steve snatched the box out of Clint’s hands, laughing. If Phil hadn’t been looking right at Clint’s face, he’d have missed the flinch, it was so quick. Blue-grey eyes flicked downward and Clint bit his bottom lip lightly. Steve didn’t catch the byplay; he passed the carton over to Phil and smiled. “Have at it, Phil, but we’re probably going to order more; Thor and Bruce are still hungry. You could add to it, if you want.”

“No thanks. This will suffice.” Phil kept a watch on Clint out of the corner of his eye. “Clint, you want more? I’m sure they’ll order some potstickers for you.” A slight head shake was Clint’s response; he was preternaturally still, coiled tight as if he was waiting to launch himself into action.

“We always order too much, so I’m sure there’ll be plenty left if you want.” Steve slapped Clint lightly on the shoulder. “You’re always welcome.”

As Steve walked away, Phil saw Clint’s shoulders slump ever so slightly. “What did the doctors say?” Phil asked to break the silence that spun between them.

“Dry eyes and throat for a day or two, drink lots of milk and put in some eye drops. Maybe some ringing in my ears for a bit, but that’s it,” Clint answered, a far more detailed explanation than Phil usually got. “They gave me some cough syrup and muscle relaxants and told me to get a good night’s sleep.”

“That sounds like a plan.” Phil knew that Clint preferred to hang around, often falling asleep on the couches after eating until the bitter end. “Maybe you should take their advice for once.”

“Yes, sir.” Clint bobbed his head and pushed away from the counter. He snagged a bottle of milk from the fridge before he left. “I’ll do that.”

Phil was left watching him go, a strange suspicion niggling in the back of his brain that something was wrong. Clint never agreed with him so easily. What was going on?

* * *

 

“Is that yours?” Steve peered over Clint’s shoulder, looking at the carton Clint had his hand on.

“My name’s on it,” Clint shot back because, yes, his name was written on the white side. Every one of the leftovers had names on them. If Clint hadn’t realized he wasn’t in Kansas anymore that clenched it. The ride back to the Tower had been surreal, watching the way everyone parted for Bruce when he came on board the jet, how the mild mannered doctor Clint knew exuded an arrogance that made lesser men look away rather than meet his eyes. The tension between Bruce and Steve was palpable; the two men played a game of one-upmanship the whole way home, with Tony in the middle, torn both ways. Clint had never seen Stark look so uncomfortable as he answered to both men, trying not to get caught between them. Then in medical, the doctors and nurses fell in line at the mere mention of Coulson’s name, and Clint knew they’d be reporting directly to Phil before Clint could get upstairs to the kitchen.

“And that matters?” Steve took the carton, popped it open, and sniffed. “Smells good.”

He wanted Clint to get angry, pushing him, but Clint didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he took the milk out and poured himself a glass to help soothe his throat. “Have at,” Clint said, shrugging as if he didn’t care. Let Steve be the playground bully; Clint knew how to deal with those from his years in the orphanage.

But Steve didn’t leave it there; he herded Clint back into the corner of the counter top, leaning into his space, using his height and strength to intimidate. “One day,” Steve said, “Coulson won’t be here to protect you and then your ass will be mine. I’m looking forward to finding out if you’re just as mouthy when you’re underneath me as when you’re in the field.”

The cold look in Steve’s blue eyes sent a shiver down Clint’s spine as much as the words. He meant it, every single syllable. As Steve pushed away and sauntered off, food in hand, Clint saw Tony watching him, calculation evident on his face. Good God, what in the hell had Clint gotten himself into? Did that device that exploded change everyone? Or was it just him? Maybe he was in a coma somewhere dreaming this strange and twisted world?

“Did you eat?” Phil asked, coming into the kitchen.

“I’m not hungry,” Clint answered, Steve still close enough to hear the conversation. “The doctors recommended milk for my throat and a good night’s sleep. I’m going to take some Tylenol and hit the rack.”

Phil cocked an eyebrow at him, displeased for a second then he glanced over at the others, noting the name on the carton Steve was eating from and making no attempt to hide. “Go get ready for bed,” Phil said in a tight voice. “I’ll take care of things here.”

Glad to escape the room, Clint stepped in the elevator which was moving before he pushed a button. Not sure he could even trust JARVIS, Clint wondered how he could research what had happened; he didn’t think Tony would help, not with the jealous way Stark had been watching him just now. And the last thing he wanted to do was get Steve involved. Maybe Natasha … but she’d been unusually quiet, sitting alone on the plane and barely speaking to him. That left Thor or Bruce and neither were appealing allies.

“JARVIS, please lock the door and don’t admit anyone,” he asked, hoping that would offer him some measure of security. He’d avoided the locker room earlier, using the excuse of heading to medical to get out of the communal time and he was glad he had now. It was all so strange, like everyone was some twisted mirror image of themselves. Stripping quickly, he jumped into the shower, bathroom door shut and locked, replaying everything that had happened since the explosion. Phil, ordering him around and expecting Clint to obey. Tony, giving in to Steve’s every command. And Steve, the most moral and upstanding guy Clint had ever known, threatening sexual assault in the kitchen.

Wasting as little time as possible, Clint cleaned up and stepped out, drying off with a fluffy cotton towel. He’d left his knife on the counter – he wished he’d been able to bring his bow, but with everyone watching, he’d had to clean and put it back in the armory under Steve’s pointed gaze – and he tucked it into the waistband of the pair of sweats he’d dragged from a drawer in the bedroom. Toweling his hair dry, he opened the door and headed for his closet, determined to find a way to get the hell out of here, put some distance between himself and the others. If he was lucky, some of his stashes would still be around town and he could find a place to do research and lay low. The strangest thought hit him; if everyone was acting the opposite of their usual nature, his best bet might be to find A.I.M. or HYDRA, maybe Victor Von Doom was in town. Maybe they were this world’s good guys.

A hand grabbed him and spun him around, slamming him back against the nearest wall. Phil, in his shirt sleeves and loosened tie, pressed his arm across Clint’s throat, putting pressure on his windpipe; the cold metal of a gun barrel pushed into Clint’s stomach, just under his ribcage, pointed up towards his heart. The shot probably wouldn’t kill him right away, but a bullet could ricochet and cause a shitload of damage and do the same thing, just much slower and more painfully.

“What the hell are you doing?” Phil asked. He brooked no argument, the steady weight on Clint’s throat slowly constricting his airway.

“Showering.” Stick with the truth as much as possible. “I went straight to medical, didn’t stop at the locker room.”

“Wrong answer.” Phil leaned in just a bit more; something dangerous glinted in his eyes.  “I told you to get ready.”

“I am.” Clint didn’t understand. “Shower and bed. I’m …” He gasped, trying to drag in enough air through an increasingly smaller windpipe; his mouth worked but nothing was going in or coming out.

“Do you want to be punished?” Phil growled in a low whisper. Spots appeared on the edge of Clint’s vision and he arched his body, hands grabbing onto Phil’s gun hand regardless of the danger. He was going to choke to death if he didn’t get Phil off of him. In return, Phil clicked off the safety and brought his mouth to Clint’s ear and whispered, “You’re not my Clint. Do what I tell you, say only ‘yes, sir’ or I’ll kill you.”

The second he moved his arm, Clint blinked and sucked in a lungful of oxygen. “I’m … sorry … I … yes, sir … I …”  

The gun didn’t waver as Phil slid his free hand down to cup Clint’s flaccid cock; an exclamation of surprise burst from Clint’s lips and yet he stirred as Phil stroked him through the cotton of his sweats.

“You’re pushing the boundaries again,” Phil cursed. “I know Steve has been angling to get you under him. Tony won’t stand for it; you’ll have an accident within a month if I cut you loose. Which, as you well know, I’ll never do. You are mine, Barton. Body and soul.”

Clint couldn’t think straight, too much input overloading his brain from Coulson’s words to his fist which was working Clint to hardness. All he could do was open his mouth and answer, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now we’re getting somewhere. Take these off and get on your knees.” Phil tugged the waistband of Clint’s sweats, snapping the elastic as he stepped back. “Assume the position.”

His body short circuited as he realized what Phil meant; he’d done some undercover in a BDSM club once which was plenty for him. Pain didn’t do it for his libido and, even if it did, he could never see himself letting someone whip him or force him to obey. Too much water under that bridge for him to ever get pleasure from being a good boy. Still, he had little choice now but to play along; Phil was right about one thing. Tony knew everything that happened in the Tower in Clint’s version of how things should be; in this crazy flipside, JARVIS probably was sending a live feed right now to Steve on Tony’s orders.

So he shimmied out of his sweats and briefs – he started to kick them in the corner, but he didn’t know if this Phil was a neat freak, so he tossed them into the open dirty clothes hamper before he stepped onto the circular rug at the end of the bed and dropped to his knees. He caught his left wrist with his right hand behind his back, ducked his head and sat on his heels. Half hard still from Phil’s touch, Clint tried not to think about how humiliating this was, especially if others were watching. Instead, he hoped that this Phil, power hungry Dom that he seemed to be, was interested in figuring out what happened and how to fix it. It occurred to Clint that if he was here, where was the other Clint? Had they switched bodies? That conjured up a negative image of this world’s Clint dealing with his Phil … and this was all getting too confusing.

He kept his eyes downcast when Phil’s shoes appeared in his peripheral vision. Fingertips brushed his exposed neck and he managed not to jump at the touch. Then smooth leather was sliding around his neck and Phil was buckling the collar that fit as if custom made.

“I’m going to read the doctor’s report and you better not have been lying to me about your condition. When I’m ready, we’ll talk about your punishment for taking too long in the shower and not being ready for me.” Phil nudged him, turning Clint until he was facing the chair in the room; Phil slid it closer, ignoring Clint as he took off his jacket and tie, removed his shoes and belt. The gun was placed on a side table, within easy reach; Phil sat and picked up an older model tablet, definitely not a Stark version, and began to scroll through the information there.

Clint bit his lip to keep in a sigh and got as comfortable as he could; something told him this was his punishment and it was going to be a long night.

* * *

 

Phil finally called it quits when he realized he was staring at a form he’d already completed. He’d intended to just grab a few pieces of work to take back to his room and finish there, but there’d been an email from Maria on his laptop and two hours had gone by before he knew it. Exhausted, he pushed away from his desk and shut off the lamp; one of the problems of having an office in the Tower was how easy it was to be on call all the time. What he needed was sleep. The issue with Clint was still niggling in his head; he hoped Clint had gone to bed a while back and was taking the medical advice. Right. When had Barton ever done that?

The bedside lamp cast a glow in the room as he entered, so Phil didn’t bother to flip on the overhead. He almost tripped over Clint, kneeling on the small rug at the end of his bed, head down, hands behind his back.

“Barton!” Phil snapped out. “What the …”

Skin. Lots and lots of skin in the golden light. Curve of the back, bunched shoulders, round ass. Toes gripping the floor, heels propping him up, knees bent but spread open. Flaccid cock between his legs. Long expanse of chest and muscles and …

“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t find it. Please, sir. I looked everywhere and it’s not here. I’m sorry.” Clint was desperate, practically begging. “It’s a test, I know, and I failed. Please, I tried.”

It clicked in Phil’s brain; he’d been Clint’s handler on a very delicate mission that involved infiltrating the BDSM community, and he remembered the sit reps that were more than uncomfortable to sit through as a group. It all came together – the explosion earlier, the A.I.M. scientists working on open portals to alternate dimensions, Clint’s odd behavior.

“You’re not my Clint Barton, are you?” Phil asked. He circled around and sat down in the recliner where he did his reading. “The explosion triggered something. You ended up here … and I bet our Clint ended up there.”

“I’m yours, sir. Always. I’m your boy. Please don’t say I’m not. I’ll do anything … anything …” He crawled over, moving between Phil’s knees, ducking his head until he could lay his cheek on Phil’s inner thigh, close enough that his breath ghosted over Phil’s dick which, to Phil’s embarrassment, jumped for joy at having Clint Barton’s mouth that nearby.  “Don’t give me to Steve. Please. I’ll be good. I’ll suck your cock in the common room, you can loan me to Bruce, tie me up for days and plug me up, just please don’t send me away.”

Before Phil could react, Clint turned his head and pressed his mouth to Phil’s cock through the cloth of his pants, sucking a wet spot as he nosed along the crease.

“Clint. Stop it.” Damn it all, this wasn’t his Clint; no matter how much Phil had fantasized about Clint on his knees, this was not what Phil wanted. This Clint was almost the opposite of his Clint; submissive to a fault, terrified of … Steve? What the hell kind of world did he come from? Phil finally grabbed a handful of this other Clint’s hair and yanked his head back; the movement brought a moan from Clint’s throat. “Listen to me. I am not your Phil; we need to figure out what happened. Put on your clothes; we’re going to go talk to Tony and Bruce. They’re probably still up working on the schematics we got from the lab today.”

His face went pale, eyes wide, but he whispered, “Yes, sir” and got up. He’d neatly folded his clothes on top of the dresser and he put them on methodically, tension evident in every muscle. It took Phil a moment before he realized that Clint thought he was going to give him to Bruce and Tony.

“Clint,” Phil ordered. Hands stilled, but Clint didn’t look up. “Look at me.” Blue-grey eyes met Phil’s, stormy and worried. “I’m not going to give you to anyone. You’re my asset and I have every intention of keeping you. Something happened in that lab, and we’re going to find out what. That’s why we’re going to see Tony and Bruce.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Clint’s shoulders relaxed.

“Now, tell me about your Phil. You’re smart, you have to know something’s wrong here,” Phil said. Clint glanced up at the corner of the wall; of course, JARVIS was watching. If he was scared of Steve and Tony in his world, he’d be concerned about monitoring.  “No one here is going to hurt you, I promise. We’re the good guys.”

“That’s the problem, sir. You’re not supposed to be.”

* * *

 

His arms were stiff and sore, his knees ached and the twin points in the small of his back were on fire. Clint tried to stretch, but the cuffs that keep his wrist chained to the metal circle on the wall gave him only enough leeway to roll over; the circle rotated so he could sleep on either stomach or back, but he couldn’t pull his arms down by his sides. Burrowing his head into the pillow beneath his cheek, Clint wasn’t sure he could even get out of bed, but the other Phil had left him no option.

How long he’d stayed on his knees, he wasn’t sure. Phil had worked for a time on his tablet and Clint had slipped into a light meditative state so he could stay still and wait it out. As a point, Phil had prepared for bed and Clint had been sure he was going to be left on the cold floor, but instead he’d been ordered into bed, his wrists yanked over his head and locked up. Naked and cold, he’d dozed lightly, too worried about the very real dangers of letting his guard down.  

As soon as Phil unlocked the cuffs, Clint sat up, rotating his shoulders and rubbing his chilled legs. He wasn’t sure how to proceed; how, exactly, would this world’s Clint behave? Clint had no clue. It seemed the people here still had their same skills – he could shoot like always and Bruce was the Hulk – and, at some level, their basic personality traits were intact. This Phil might be a sadist, but he had worked late last night on paperwork, wore smart suits, and went head-to-head with Steve without fear. So Clint should still be a mouthy son-of-a-bitch, right?

“Get dressed, daily uniform. Arm yourself. Keep the collar on.” Phil took care of the situation with a series of sharp orders. “Keep your mouth shut, no matter what anyone says to you. No hair trigger smart ass remarks. I have no problem using the gag if need be.”

Before Clint could reply … a gag? Seriously? … the outer door opened, and Bruce walked through the living room and into the bedroom as if he owned the place. Dark eyes took a long look at Clint’s naked body, and Clint fought the impulse to cover his junk with his hands. Bruce noted the red marks around Clint’s wrists, the stiff way he held his shoulders, and the bruising along his side from yesterday. Ignoring Bruce, Clint opened the closet and took out black cargo pants and a pair of boots then went to the dresser, so he could get dressed.

“Banner,” Phil bit out, sharp and angry. “The door was locked.”

“JARVIS? Run protocol alpha seven Charlie, authorization six six four.” Bruce leaned against the door jamb. “We have about four minutes before the security bots find the disruption. Tony’s been closeted with Steve for the last two hours; he left the lab in a hurry and locked me out of the system. I think he’s figured out what happened to your boy yesterday.”

Phil paused, glanced over at Clint who was pulling his shirt on, and tilted his head. “And you’re telling me this? What do you want?”

Maybe because he was the outsider, Clint could clearly see this for the play that it was. “He’s worried that this will tip the balance of power; he wants to make an alliance with you so Steve doesn’t end up on top.”

“Steve and Tony underestimate you,” Bruce said, his eyes alight with interest. “I’ve never made that mistake. Phil was wise to collar you early on.”

“You think whatever Tony’s discovered is that important?” Phil asked, checking his gun before he tucked it into his holster. Yet another difference; Clint’s Phil wouldn’t carry a gun in the Tower.

“He was on his knees outside of Steve’s door, collar in place, before he told him,” Bruce answered. That earned a raised eyebrow from Phil, and Clint shivered at the implications. Opposites indeed. He could never imagine Tony that scared of Steve.

“Then we should find out …” Phil began.

The alarm went off and JARVIS spoke. “Emergency protocols have been instituted. There’s a disruption in the building; it seems that part of that floor 86 is missing.”

* * *

“From what I can tell, I think it was designed to create a stable interdimensional rift.  A number of physicists have theorized that there are multiple universes separated by a thin membrane, like bubbles upon bubbles,” Bruce was explaining. He and Tony had been working on the data most of the night. Phil, on the other hand, had kept his eye on Clint. From what the other man had said, he came from a place where they were a league of evil, not a superhero initiative. The whole time in the lab, Clint hadn’t moved from his spot on Tony’s couch; despite keeping his eyes downcast, he still took in everything, watching with distrust as people came in and out. He flinched when Bruce addressed him by name and didn’t laugh at Tony’s lame jokes. Phil was beginning to worry; if he looked closely, he could see the way Clint’s eyes were dilated, the slight tremor in the hand that kept straying to his throat.

“HYDRA was working on one of those back in the war.” Steve walked in, glancing up at the schematics Tony had thrown up on the screen. “Strucker got it open for a short time and brought some nasty creatures through; Thor says they’d tapped into the rainbow bridge technology.”

There was no masking the way Clint tensed all over and shifted closer to where Phil was sitting on the sofa’s arm. He was afraid of Steve. In some way, Phil supposed that made sense; if they were opposite in Clint’s world, Steve would be the worst of the worst.

“Slightly different mechanics, Cap, but similar idea. We think the machine malfunctioned … probably Robin Hood’s exploding arrow that landed on the control panel before the countdown started. It opened a way, but shut it again almost immediately. Or at least we thought.” Tony started the 3D projector and a reenactment of the explosion appeared. “Here. Watch.” The shadowy figures moved into place, and the battle replayed at a fast pace until the moment when Clint shot the arrow at the door to keep the goons inside. With the radiation filter on, Phil could see a flare of pink around the arrow shaft as it moved across the room leaving a trail behind. “Best we can figure, Clint has a charge around him.” The picture changed, the lights in the room dimming and each of them visible as energy signatures. A pink glow outlined Clint’s body as he glanced up at Phil, surprise on his face.

“What are you saying?” Phil asked, not removing Clint’s hand when he slipped it around Phil’s thigh as if to anchor himself.

“It’s just a theory, mind you,” Bruce said, his own form outlined with a greenish tinge; Tony’s sense of humor probably, making gamma glow green. “But we think Clint – other universe Clint here -- has been exposed to different radiation and that’s interacting with naturally occurring levels in our world.”

“And that’s bad because?” Steve asked.

“We don’t know …” Bruce started just as Phil noticed the surge of pink that burst out from Clint, expanding outward. Alarms sounded and everyone reacted.

“Lock us down!” Tony shouted.

Bruce changed, the Hulk coming out with a roar.

Steve rushed forward to where they were sitting.

Clint turned his eyes up at Phil, a flash of fear running through the blue-grey depths.

Phil dropped on his knees and wrapped his arms around Clint.

Then the world turned upside down.

* * *

  
“Tony!” Bruce called into the cloud of smoke and debris.  Clint’s eyes started to water, an acidic wave wafting through the blasted open doorway. Half the wall was missing, metal struts twisted and hanging out into the cold morning air. A large chunk of what once had been a lab was literally gone as if a big hand had scooped it up and carried it away, dropping bits and pieces behind.

“Jarvis!” Phil shouted. “Where’s Stark?”

“I’m sorry, Agent Coulson, but my sensors are not working in the area around the lab. Rerouting to external visuals and overtaking the city cams,” the computer answered. “I have an image from the Baxter Building’s security, feeding to your tablet now.”

As grainy as the picture was, the damage appeared worse from the outside, a gaping hole with smoke pouring out that encompassed at least three floors. The cloud of black that boiled out obscured any closer observation.

“Damn it,” Bruce growled, his voice dropping into the Hulk’s register. “We can risk rushing in and moving things if we don’t know where anyone is.”

Squinting, Clint took two steps into the room, letting his eyes adjust until the smoke began to take on contours and outlines. A table, overturned, a metal cabinet, doors askew, and a computer screen, flickering patterns changing per second. Tools sliding down the sloped floor. Lengths of cables creating a virtual spider’s web, wrapped around an outstretched arm, body slipping towards the edge.

“Got him!” Clint dashed forward, feet dancing around the cords as Tony began to tip over, his unconscious head flopping to the side. Sliding the rest of the way, Clint wrapped his legs around Tony’s torso, drew back a grappling arrow and let it fly as he braced his feet against a remaining sliver of the window. Circling the rope around his left arm, he activated the winch and sank his fingers into Tony’s collar, dragging both of them back into the building.  Big green hands grabbed Tony and lifted him up and Phil cut the cords that trapped Stark.

Coughing, the smoke burning the back of his throat, Clint disconnected the rope and stumbled out into the clearer air of the hallway.

“What the fuck happened here?” Steve demanded, rounding a corner.

“We don’t know,” Phil answered calmly. The Hulk grunted, his disgust evident as he shouldered Steve aside and carried Tony towards the freight elevator. Clint assumed he was going to take Tony to the medical suite. “Tony was unconscious when we found him. Clint rescued him.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose and he turned his gaze on Clint. A frisson of fear settled in Clint’s gut; not once had Steve even looked at Tony or asked about his condition. “Is that right? And why would you do that, Barton?  Risk your life to save Stark?”

He froze, unsure of the best answer. The truth wouldn’t work; in this world, Stark hated Clint and the feeling, it seemed, was mutual. It was all about power and who he called … that was it. “To please you,” Clint said, not bothering to hide the tremor in his voice. “Tony’s your sub, and he’s very useful to the team. Had I let him die, you would be angry with me.”

Leaning in closer, Steve stared into Clint’s face, searching his eyes for any hint of rebellion, anything but complete submission. “Well, it looks like you can be taught, Barton. I was beginning to think you were no more than a bow and a hot ass.”

“If you’re quite done, we need to figure out what happened here and who’s behind it,” Phil said, stepping between Steve and Clint, forcing Clint back two steps. “This is an attack right on the heart of our stronghold. It must be met with equal force.”

“On that point, Coulson, we agree,” Steve said.

* * *

 

“Okay, here’s my best guess.” Tony tossed the data onto the large screen in the conference room. “The device that Hawkass set off was designed to open interdimensional rifts between the multiverse worlds. A flawed design, it turns out. HYDRA turned on the countdown when we broke through; by hitting that button, Clint … our Clint not Evil Clint here … although he probably pushed the button at the same time on his side for the exchange to take place .... which is so improbable, two universes with the exact thing happening at the exact time that they made the connection and somehow … that’s the fuzzy part still … a swap happened. We got Super Sub Clint and Sassy Clint is sporting a goatee.”

“Tony.” Natasha’s voice was cold and focused. “What is all that junk that landed in the swimming pool?”

“Yeah, right, getting there. Best guess is that the portal isn’t stable. Material from one is seeping into the other and as long as the Clints aren’t in their correct place, we could lose a  couple bedrooms or labs at anytime.” Tony plopped a hard drive down on the table. “Fortunately we recovered data from this piece of junk … yes, I’m great, I know … and have a good sense they’re working on the problem from their end. Oh, and Spangles is one nasty piece of work there. My counterpart kept files on the stuff you did, Steve. Blackmail material, I suspected, to keep himself alive.”

Phil felt the gentle touch of Clint’s fingers on the back of his hand; it was Clint’s way of letting Phil know he had something to contribute. Clint wouldn’t talk unless he had Phil’s permission. With a nod, Phil told him to go ahead.

“Stark keeps files on all of us; that must be from his personal lab which means he’s working on the problem. My Phil would figure out the switch first then Bruce and Tony. That means we need to hurry; Steve will beat it out of Tony soon,” Clint explained.

“Can we call him something else?” Steve asked with a shiver. “Just designate them our evil counterparts?”

“The question of the hour,” Phil said, “is how do we stop this?”

“Once we understand the portal program, we can try and reverse it. If we get the Clints back to their correct worlds, shut the system down, we think things will go back to normal,” Bruce said. “We want to do a few tests on Clint to find the biological differences …”

Clint stiffened next to Phil then shrank in on himself at the mention of testing. If they were their opposites in this other world, Phil thought, it was no wonder Clint was afraid of Bruce and his alter ego. His Steve was a brute from what Phil had read; Bruce would be an intelligent psychopath with Hulk sized strength.

“I’ll be there,” Phil assured Clint. “We’ll get this worked out.”

* * *

 

“A dimensional rift.” Bruce stared over the table at each one of them in turn. Clint kept his eyes down even when the hairs on the back of his neck started to burn. “That’s what the other Tony discovered. The device opened one and now the two worlds are unstable. If Clint hadn’t grabbed Tony, he would have slipped through.”

“Why?” Natasha had her feet on the table, ankles crossed. Clint couldn’t get a read on her, how she fit into the dynamics except that everyone left her alone.  His own Nat was so multi-dimensional, despite what others thought, that Clint couldn’t imagine her opposite wouldn’t be the same.  

“He thinks the machine is still operating somehow, but he’s wrong. A cursory exam of the exposed areas show a unique kind of radiation, one that also shows up in minute amounts in a few other places around the Tower including this room. Right now.” Bruce’s eyes turned green and his voice deepened. “Clint. Quit pretending to be what you’re not. You’re not that good of an actor to pull off a decent sub.”

“Clint is still my property,” Coulson growled, rising from his chair. “An insult to him …”

“Sit down, Phil.” Natasha’s voice was quiet and deadly. “That’s not our Clint and Steve will figure it out all too soon if we don’t solve this. You know what’s he’s going to do once he finds out there’s another dimension with opposites of ourselves.”

“It may be an answer to our problem,” Phil suggested. “Let him charge through like he does then shut the damn thing behind him. Whoever’s on the other side can deal with him.”

“Not if we want to stop the spiral. According to my calculations, the imbalance of having non-Clint here is what’s keeping the two universes in contact. If Steve or any more of us go through, both could implode.”  Bruce leaned his hands on the conference table. “I’ve made no bones about my desire to have Clint as my sub. But this Clint is neither a sub nor the man we both want. And in order to make my plans come to fruition, we have to get our Clint back.”

“That’s why you’re more dangerous than Steve,” Clint spoke for the first time. “People discount Bruce Banner and think you’re nothing but the raging hulk.”

“Good God, you’re a dom, aren’t you?” Natasha said with a laugh. “I would love to see Phil collared and on his knees for you.”

“Yeah, well, me too but that ain’t happening.” Clint sat back, giving up the masquerade. “I can’t imagine the subby me on his knees for my Coulson at all. So how do we do this?”

“We go back to where it began. The original machine. Data, schematics … we figure out exactly what happened and how to reverse it before our world becomes unstable.” Bruce stared right at Clint with a gaze that went straight through him. Clint was rarely afraid, but what he saw in those brown depths put fear in the pit of his stomach. This Bruce would do whatever he had to in order to get what he wanted.

“I’ll talk to the scientists we have down in holding; they’ll tell me what they know.” A statement of fact; his Natasha would say the same thing, but this declaration made Clint feel a spurt of empathy for the guys downstairs. He still didn’t understand this world’s Clint’s relationship with Tasha, but she scared the spit out of him.

“I’ll get all the data from Tony’s work,” Bruce said. Clint didn’t want to know exactly how he was going to accomplish that feat. “You get to the site. We’ll meet you there.”

* * *

 

“So what’s supposed to happen now?” Steve looked to Tony for answers.

“Give us a minute here, Spangles. Science takes time.”  Tony fiddled with the unit they’d salvaged from the HYDRA lab; a spark jumped and then a shimmer appeared in the air, rapidly spreading into an oval. “Now, assuming me on the other side is as smart as I am -- and why wouldn’t he be since he’s me? -- we just have to wait until they open their portal and then we make a swap.”

From where Phil stood, he could see a distortion in the middle, a cascading wave that grew brighter with each passing second.  Tremors shook the floor followed by more shaking; the rifts were coming faster now.

A tentative touch on his arm and Phil turned to see the Clint, his eyes troubled.  “Weapons,” he said in a quiet whisper. “We should be armed.”

“You think there’s danger?” Phil asked.

Steve tuned into the conversation. “You know them, Clint. What will they do?”

“Steve will see this world as a threat, expect an invasion force, and take pre-emptive” Clint supplied.

“Wow, I’m a right royal prick over there, aren’t I?” Steve asked to no one. Of course, Tony took it as a sign to make a joke.

“You’re a pain-in-the-ass here too.” Tony tweaked a few knobs and the oval solidified even more. “Oh, hey, if you’re a dominant in that universe, does that mean you’re a …”

“Something’s happening!” Bruce said. A hand appeared, followed by an arm and then Clint -- Phil’s Clint -- stepped through as a shudder shook the walls.

“We’ve got to do this fast,” Clint said to his counterpart. “The worlds are about to implode.”

“ Steve?” The other Clint took a few steps towards the portal.

“Distracted, but not for long,” Clint replied. “Tony is trying to …”

An arm thrust out and grabbed Clint’s elbow, yanking him back. Phil darted forwards, taking Clint’s free hand and anchoring him on this side. “Go,” he shouted to the other Clint. “Go.”

He leaped for the portal, but a broad chest stopped him, a fist curling around his neck as the other Steve stepped through.  Dangling the other Clint off the ground, Evil Steve gave a cruel smile as he surveyed the assembled Avengers.

“Well, well. So, that’s what I’d look like as a mewling sub.” He sneered, dismissing them all as beneath him. “First thing I’ll do is get rid of …”

Reeling forward, Steve dropped the other Clint as three blooms of red spread on his chest, the smell of ozone filling the room. Through the portal stepped the other Phil, a high tech weapon in his hand.

“Touch him again and the next one’s through the brain pan. You don’t have a heart,” he said. “We can’t stay here, you idiot, it’ll destroy both worlds and you with it.”

“My Tony can stabilize the connection; he told me so,” Steve growled. He squeezed his hand and the other Clint began to turn red in the face while he snatched up Clint, looping an arm around his neck, holding both of them hostage.

“It can’t be done,” Tony interrupted. “He’s lying to you, Captain Chaos. That’s what happens when you rely upon beatings to get answers.”

“Oh, look. A little yapping dom who’s nothing without his tech. Always do love breaking doms. I’ll start by taking apart that pale shadow of me while you watch. And as for you …” Steve turned to the other Phil. “Your sniveling sub will be next on my to-do list.”

The tremor made them sway as the building rocked; Clint took the momentary distraction to jam his elbow into one of the bleeding wounds, twisting free.  The other Clint kicked his Steve in the gonads, hard, rolling away as he cursed loudly with pain. Everyone seemed to move at once; Evil Steve grabbed the laser gun, pointing it at Clint, the closest target.  Steve launched himself at his doppelganger while Evil Phil jumped in front of the blast, taking the bulk of the shot to his side. Clint caught him before he hit the floor, cradling the man in his arms. With a roar, Bruce transformed, Steve spun Evil Steve towards the portal and the Hulk’s meaty hand knocked him back through the portal. From the other side, the sounds of fighting grew louder then stopped abruptly with the Evil Hulk’s shout.

“He’s hurt,” Clint said, looking up for help.

“I’ve got him.” The other Clint knelt, slipping his arms under his Dom. “I’ll take him back. Make sure he gets what he needs.”

For a split second, Clint gazed into his own eyes. “What about Steve?”

“Bruce has been looking for a way to take him out of the picture,” the other Clint said and shrugged. “Weakened, Steve can be taken down.”

The message was loud and clear; Steve would be fighting for his life. Well, Clint thought, there’s no honor among thieves. “Won’t the same happen to Phil?”

“I have some leverage with Natasha I can use. Phil’s worth burning a few bridges.” A familiar smile covered the other Clint’s face. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Clint said. He helped lift Evil Phil and walk him to the portal.

“We’re not that different,” Evil Phil whispered to him. “Only I take what I want instead of waiting.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not evil,” Clint replied.

“Too bad,” Evil Phil said.

As soon as the two made it through, Tony shut down the power; for good measure, the Hulk smashed the equipment into tiny little bits. They all stood staring at the space for a few seconds before Tony broke the silence

“Well, that was exciting,” he said. “You’re a real badass in that universe, Stevie-boy. Kinda hot. But I think I like the blushing sub version better.”

“You have no idea, Stark.” Clint clapped his friend on the back. “No idea.”

* * *

 

“You’re asleep on your feet. Debrief can wait.” Phil nudged Clint; he blinked awake from the light doze he’d fallen into. “Go to bed; tomorrow is soon enough.”

He’d been thinking about how much detail to share about his night in the other Phil’s room.  Funny how seeing the distorted reflection of them all brought his feelings into sharp focus. All about how much he’d love to have more than a friendship with Phil, and some truths he’d been ignoring for far too long.  Nothing like threats from an evil Captain America to bring things into perspective.

“I’m beat,” Clint admitted. “Despite how romantic being naked and handcuffed to a bed all night sounds, it’s not conducive to getting any rest.”

They walked down the hall towards Clint’s room. “Steve did that?” Phil asked, concern in his eyes.

“Nah, Evil Steve preferred more violent methods of punishment if his threats and Tony’s scars were any indication. The mirror universe version of you was the one with the key to my chains.” Clint watched Phil’s reaction carefully. Only the tiniest signs showed -- a flicker of eyelid, the slightest hitch in his breath -- but it was enough.  

“That explains the other you showing up naked in my room,” Phil replied. “He was upset he couldn’t find his collar and expected me to punish him.”

A quick flash of … jealousy? … and Clint didn’t tamp it down; he let it flare and give him the courage to keep going. “And what did you do?”

Phil grabbed his elbow, halting him just at his door. “Do you think I’d take advantage of …”

“No, I don’t.” Clint interrupted him.  “Look, Phil, I’m so exhausted I can’t see straight much less put words together. What I want is to sleep for forty-eight hours, but I also want to say this before I lose my nerve. We need to talk, about this thing between us. Seeing us in that world … villainous behavior aside … made me realize what I want and that’s you.”

A smile crept into the corner of Phil’s mouth. “There’s a dinner over on 34th street, serves the best pancakes in Manhattan,” he said. “24 hour breakfast so it doesn’t matter when you wake up. I’ll be there.”

He turned to go, but Clint didn’t let him. “As long as I’m going for it, I’ll rest better if there’s someone with me. I mean, just sleeping. Nothing else. Not yet.” He huffed a laugh at himself. “Come sleep with me, Phil. So I don’t wake up and think it’s all a dream.”

The smile became full blown. “And to protect you from big bad Steve?”

“Oh, I saw the way Tony was looking at our fair Captain. I don’t think we’re going to have worry about them for a while.” Clint leaned in and brushed a light kiss on Phil’s lips. “Now take me to bed, you big stud, and be my little spoon.”

“How can I refuse such a romantic offer?” Phil replied.

 


End file.
